


The Wedding Job

by Deisderium



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, F/F, Ladies first, be gay prevent crimes, reverse heist, speaking parts for men maybe 3 lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-21
Updated: 2019-06-21
Packaged: 2020-05-15 03:28:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19287193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deisderium/pseuds/Deisderium
Summary: Natasha Romanova is many things: An agent. A spy. A woman with a series of masks who can be anything to get a job done, shifting personas as easily as some people change clothes. Which is why it is utterly baffling that she feels off balance, as she reels back from a perfectly-executed elbow strike, which she blocked, also perfectly.Maybe it's her opponent.Natasha is many things, and terrifyingly competent at most of them. But she knows her weaknesses, too.Maria Hill just might be one of them.*In which Maria and Natasha join forces with Nakia to keep jerks from ruining a wedding, and Natasha catches some feelings.





	The Wedding Job

**Author's Note:**

  * For [amsch (calendulae)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calendulae/gifts).



> I am very excited for this RBB! 
> 
> A thousand thank yous to [calendulae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/calendulae) for the beautiful art and the prompt, and for encouragement and brainstorming along the way! You are fun to RBB with, my friend. 
> 
> Another thousand thank yous to [crinklefries](https://archiveofourown.org/users/crinklefries) for the beta, which caught about a billion shifted tenses and incomplete thoughts. Your help was invaluable!<3 <3 <3
> 
> And many heartfelt thank yous to the RBB mods for running such a large event so smoothly!

Natasha Romanova is many things: An agent. A spy. A woman with a series of masks who can be anything to get a job done, shifting personas as easily as some people change clothes.

In her life, she has acquired many skills: Languages. Disguise. An ability to get just about anything out of a computer if given five minutes with it. She can disassemble and reassemble most guns in under seven minutes, field strip them in three. She excels in armed and unarmed combat.

Which is why it is utterly baffling that she feels off balance, as she reels back from a perfectly-executed elbow strike, which she blocked, also perfectly.

Maybe it's her opponent.

"Good," Maria calls from where she too, has danced back to the other side of the training gym. "Let's try some kicks."

Natasha shifts her weight, circling, determined to find an opportunity to score a point on the other woman if at all possible. It won't be easy.

Maria Hill is one of the most competent people Natasha has ever met, and Natasha knows Peggy Carter. Maria has been an agent of SHIELD, Nick Fury's right hand, and since the fall of SHIELD, a free agent wielded by Director Peggy Carter, come out of retirement to clean up come messes. There wasn't a SHIELD any more for her to direct, but there were a handful of highly-trained operatives that a mind like Peggy's, still sharp, could find many uses for.

It was Peggy who put them together for this assignment. Natasha worked with Maria on several occasions when they were both at SHIELD, but those had been larger operations where the two of them were part of strike teams, and Maria was usually coordinating. For this, they were going to be working together. Undercover, just the two of them, at least at first.

Natasha sees an opening and closes the distance between them, feinting to her right, pivoting at the last second to strike with her left leg. Maria's eyes widen, just a fraction, but before Natasha can even take pleasure in surprising her, Maria dodges, whipping to the side.

Natasha can see the hold Maria's going to use, but doesn't quite have time to evade it--damn, she's fast!--and to her utter disgust, Maria has her in a chokehold.

This close, she can smell her perfume, something faint and floral, mingled with the warm smell of her sweat. She can feel the heat of her body against her back, in the arm held firmly pressed against her throat.

"Check," Maria says, the faintest thread of satisfaction in her voice.

"Not quite," Natasha says. "Look down."

When Maria spots the knife Natasha has poised just beneath her ribcage, she swears and lets go. The angle isn't great, but Natasha could have made it work if she'd had to. Natasha allows herself a fraction of an unprofessional second to regret the loss of her touch, and then turns to face her.

"Nice work," Maria says, and her eyes linger on Natasha’s, warm and pleased.

"You too. Not many people can get the drop on me." Natasha slides her knife back into its sheath.

"I know," Maria says, and shoots Natasha a smile that makes her weaker in the knees than training can account for.

Natasha is many things, and terrifyingly competent at most of them. But she knows her weaknesses, too.

Maria Hill just might be one of them.

*

This is going to be an undercover op not quite like any Natasha has been on before; she’s going to a wedding, and she’ll be working with Wakandan security, which just about no one outside of Wakanda has.

Peggy Carter has been communicating with General Okoye about the upcoming event, the first of its kind. Since Princess Shuri established the Wakandan Outreach Center in Oakland, more and more Americans have been getting a chance to interact with the Wakandans stationed there. Perhaps it wasn't too much of a surprise that after two years of the facility's existence, one of the scientists who worked there had met and fallen in love with one of the Dora Milaje guarding the facilities. Natasha has files on both of them: Xoliswa, whose career as  Dora has been exemplary, and Lucia Vasquéz, who has several degrees from Caltech and has been working with Princess Shuri developing nanotechnology with medical applications.   

They had decided to get married, and if either of them had ever hoped for a small wedding, it was no longer in the cards. As the first wedding between an American and a Wakandan, the event was going to be big. It was going to be luxe. Natasha had seen the orders for the food and flowers: huge centerpieces on every table, garlands wrapped around every column and hanging from every chandelier, with flowers imported from Wakanda as well as those locally available. Likewise the food would showcase cuisines from both brides’ heritages, and both would be bedecked with gold jewelry. The royal family spared no expense when it came to the Dora, and her American bride would be lavishly welcomed. The guest list was to be extensive.

Of course, not all of the guests would be there to celebrate the couple.

Director Carter had gotten word that Hammer Industries was planning to get a hand on Wakandan technology, and since they couldn't do it by fair means, they were aiming for foul.

That's all right; Natasha knows a lot about foul means.

The sun is not yet at its zenith. She, Maria, and Nakia have reserved a table at a little brunch spot Nakia suggested, not far from the Wakandan Outreach Center. It's a balmy day, there's a pleasant breeze, and they have a pitcher of sparkling water with slices of cucumber and mint, and two secured tablets on the table.

Nakia is personable and lovely, although that doesn't mean much; Natasha can be personable and lovely too if she needs to be. But Nakia is experienced as a spy, and Peggy and the Wakandan royalty vouch for her, and most importantly, she knows the players on the Wakandan side of things in a way that Natasha and Maria don't. They bring a much greater knowledge of the players at Hammer Industries; the three of them balance each other out, filling in gaps they might otherwise not know they had. Dossiers and reports are all very well, but Natasha has come up against some Hammer assholes in particular more than once and would be delighted to thwart them again.

"Justine Hammer," Natasha says, tapping on an image on her tablet. The image expands. Nakia will be able to review all the information at her leisure, but Natasha has always found that it's good to go over things face-to-face. They've got privacy screens on both tablets, courtesy of Stark, and Nakia has a little device by her water glass that will scramble any attempt to bug them and also projects an innocuous conversation over their own. Nakia can switch it on and off when the waiter comes by. Someone on the Wakandan team made it, and Natasha is deeply covetous.

"Hammer is the CEO and president of Hammer Industries," Natasha says. "She'll be there, along with her daughter Sasha. I have no doubt she'll be involved, but it's highly unlikely that she'll get her hands dirty. She's got people for that. People that don't officially work for Hammer Industries."

"People you've run into before?" Nakia asks, looking at Natasha rather than the tablet.

"Once or twice," Natasha says, and Maria shoots her a quick smile that somehow lodges in Natasha's breastbone. She clears her throat and taps another image: three white men, photographed from a distance through surveillance equipment. The photos are high resolution. The men look shifty, or maybe that's just her.

"Mark Novak. Brian Murphy. Thomas Walsh. Hacker. Muscle. Thief. They've all got a few skills in common, but Walsh is the slipperiest when it comes to physically stealing anything. Murphy'll be the most challenging to take down, and Novak's the one to watch when it comes to security protocol."

Nakia nods and taps a schematic on her tablet in turn and Natasha watches a map pop into existence on her own tablet screen. "Here's the venue. We decided against holding the wedding at the Center itself as there is the potential for an even greater security breach if we allow all the guests into the building."

Natasha is very aware of her and Maria's heads leaning close as they look at the blueprints of the building. She can smell Maria's shampoo, a faint floral scent. Maria shifts, just enough that their arms touch. Natasha doesn’t move away, and neither does Maria. Natasha is aware of every atom where they’re touching, but she makes herself focus on the image instead of that warm line of skin.

It's pretty standard for this kind of thing; a converted warehouse with a big room and a stage, and two smaller rooms where food and the bar will be. A kitchen staffed by caterers.

The wedding will be a combination of American and Wakandan traditions, with both Wakandan and American dancing. It's the latter that Natasha has pegged as the most likely time for one of the Hammer-adjacent goons--most likely Walsh--to make his move. The kimoyo beads will be on both brides’ wrists by then. All three of them agree that Lucia is a more likely target than Xoliswa.  Wakandan dancing doesn’t allow people to get as close as the American style, dancers interacting in a line or circle instead of as couples; Walsh might even try to ask for a dance during the latter.

There will be other opportunities, depending on whether the goons are there as guests or staff, but they won't know until they get eyes on the ground.

"A lot of our strategy is going to depend on how they infiltrate," Natasha says out loud. "Both Justine and Sasha RSVP'ed with a plus one, and the third man could easily be the guest of another guest."

"None of the invited guests is named Murphy, Walsh, or Novak," Nakia confirms. She leans back, effortlessly elegant in a dark green dress. Her eyes dart up and to the right, and she twitches her forefinger twice, a tiny movement, but enough to catch Natasha's attention. She sits up herself as the server comes by and takes their orders. Once the waiter leaves, Nakia's finger twitches again, and they get back to it.

"Another way they might get in is posing as one of the waitstaff," Natasha continues. "The flowers will be set up beforehand, so a florist seems unlikely, but the caterer's staff pulls from a pool of waiters, so someone new could be pulled in easily."

Maria nods at that, and Natasha feels a little twinge of pride. "What about the Dora Milaje?"

"What about them?" Nakia asks, one eyebrow arching up.

"Are they aware of the potential threat?"

Nakia's smile creases the skin around her eyes. Natasha thinks it's the most real expression they've seen from her yet. "General Okoye is certainly aware, but most of the Dora are not. There's a reason I'm working with you; this is a situation for spies, not soldiers. The last thing any of us wants is to publicly disrupt this day for the brides. The three of us will deal with this the way it needs to be dealt with--subtly." Natasha decides that she likes Nakia.

Maria clears her throat. "How about this? Nakia and I will go as guests, mingle with the crowd, and keep an eye on the Hammers and their guests. Natasha will pose as one of the waitstaff and keep an eye on things behind the scenes. We'll all be on comms--Peggy Carter will coordinate. Tony Stark has rigged pretty much undetectable earpieces for us," she adds to Nakia.

Nakia leans forward, arms crossed on the table. "Oh, has he? Why don't you bring those back to the center and let's have a look. I have a feeling we can do better."

*

Natasha glances at Maria, and Maria catches her eye and lifts one eyebrow a tiny, telling fraction of an inch.

Maria is never--never!--discomposed. She always has a smooth face and a sleek, dark ponytail, never a thread out of place. So when Maria's lips press together as though she is suppressing an emotion, Natasha knows that she's not the only one impressed.

"I'm sorry," Princess Shuri says, tossing Tony's nearly-invisible earwigs to the side. "These are ungainly and inelegant and anyone who got too close could see them. I have so much better."

The earpieces that look like freckles that adhere to the insides of their ears are only the beginning. Peggy must have sent over some information about their fighting styles, because Shuri gives Natasha an updated version of her widow's bites. The ones she had before were shock sticks, or gloves, unmistakable for anything but weapons. What Shuri gives her are a pair of slender bracelets, black and silver. There's no battery or power sources that she can see, and they are activated by a specific flexion of her hands, like popping her wrists. Shuri has her try them out on a set of targets at one end of the lab, and after Natasha hits the center every time, she looks up to find Maria watching her with a wide grin.

Shuri has a set of bracelets for Nakia too, wide silver bands that spin out sharp circular ring blades. Nakia flings them with deadly grace, and they slice through the targets with spare precision. Natasha's impressed.

For Maria, Shuri has what appears to be a pair of standard Glocks, but they've been upgraded. When they shoot, they're near-silent, and Shuri has added non-lethal rounds that will incapacitate but not kill a target, and shoot exactly like standard ammunition.

"I thought about equipping you with energy weapons, but learning a new weapon right before an operation seems foolish. Even if you take a headshot," Shuri says, "your target will be alive for questioning later. Guns are clumsy weapons, but now you have the option of subtlety."

"I'll try to take good advantage of it," Maria says, grinning at her guns. Natasha has to spend a moment questioning what is going on with her, because for a fraction of a second, she is jealous of an inanimate hunk of metal and plastic because it makes Maria smile like that.

Then the moment is over and Shuri says, "I'll be there, of course, but I won't be able to help much."

"At all," Okoye says. "You won't be able to help at all, Princess, because you will be with the royal family as your brother helps officiate the ceremony."

"Not at the reception." Shuri smiles as Okoye shakes her head.

"Please let us worry about the infiltrators," Nakia says. "You'll have plenty enough to do with all the guests."

Shuri makes a face, but agrees, and then there's nothing left to do but review the layout of the building, and wait.

*

The thing about Natasha's childhood is that it wasn't much of a childhood at all. She grew up in the Black Widow program, one of dozens of girls, raised to be perfect killing machines, perfect manipulators, perfect spies. It's not ego to say that she was the best; she was one of the few that lived, after all.

When Clint Barton brought her in--when she defected--it had been easy to change her allegiance from one master to another. She was a weapon to be pointed, after all, and whose hands were on it didn't really matter. It was only after time that she had come to believe that her motivations were important, and so were those of the people directing her. It still felt new, in some ways, doing things not just because she was told to, but because they were right.

And the things she did weren't necessarily easy, but they were simple, in a way. No matter how complicated a mission got, her part in it was direct: fight the bad guys. Retrieve information. Play against expectations to get what she wanted. Lie if she needed to. She was good at it. It was what she'd been trained to do.

But the childhood training that had left her competent and deadly had left her woefully unprepared for normal human interaction. She had applied herself to learning how to do it like it was a challenge her teachers had set her. Clint had helped; he had let her practice on him, running through scenarios, talking her through how people might talk to each other when it was completely inconsequential, talking to her when it mattered.

She spent her formative years learning to suppress her emotions and wear a series of masks: whatever she needed to be to get the job done, whatever the other person needed to see. The problem with masks, though, was that they made it harder to know what she was really feeling.

There were very few people she trusted enough to want to drop her mask with. Maria Hill was rapidly becoming one of them. Maria is competent, and even when she’s brisk, she’s kind, and she knows what Natasha was, but she’s never treated her any differently than anyone else. That she’s beautiful and can fight Natasha to a standstill are just bonus features.

The problem, however, is the way she feels around Maria: jagged, prickly, sharp-edged. She thinks it might be desire. It's not at all how she feels around Clint, comfortable and easy. She loves Clint like someone she’s walked through fire with, like a brother. Still, it's a good feeling, an awareness like a breeze over skin. _Anticipation_ , she thinks, and bites her lip. The want to touch is part of it; but more than that she wants to _know_. What Maria wants, what Maria likes; what makes her tick.  

But it doesn't matter right now; she's here on a mission, and whatever she feels around Maria, it can't affect her work. She prides herself on her focus.

It'll just have to wait until after the wedding.

*

On the day of the wedding, Natasha is in place first.

Maria and Nakia talk to her over the comms, and all she has to do is murmur to talk back to them. In the background, Peggy is coordinating them and supervising the video feeds, while Okoye and Shuri are participating in the ceremony much more closely.

Natasha had to show up with the catering company, so she's been polishing plates and lining up silverware all afternoon. Despite her hunch, none of the Hammer Industries buttonmen have shown up yet. She's disappointed. She doesn't like being wrong _anyway_ , and being wrong in front of their new Wakandan allies is unpleasant, but being wrong in front of Maria is excruciating.

She knows no one is grading or judging her, but the feeling of having her every move weighed and found wanting is always stronger when she's in the field. She tells herself to get over it and moves on. Just because none of the guys is there _now_ doesn't mean it won't be useful to have her behind-the-scenes later.

So she goes on plating canapes until it's time to move. She doesn't have a view of the ceremony, which is a damn shame, because she's been to more funerals than weddings and it'd be nice to work on changing that.

She hears Wakandan music alternating with American standards that she vaguely recognizes--she cut her teeth on Russian music but she's picked up a thing or two--and the guests are shifting in their seats when Maria says in her ear, low and intimate, "Novak and Walsh are here with Justine and Sasha. No eyes on Murphy yet."

"I haven't seen him back here yet," Natasha says, barely subvocalizing. She might look like she's talking to herself, but no one will be able to hear what she's saying.

"I think I have something," Peggy says in her ear, "a man in a coverall with a janitorial logo. There are no janitorial staff engaged until tomorrow."

"Where?" Natasha murmurs.

"Approaching your location," Peggy says crisply.

Natasha rolls her shoulders back, settling the weapons hidden underneath her server's uniform. Her modified tuxedo looks like that of any of the other server, but the fabric is reinforced. It's not Kevlar, but something thinner and more fluid. It's the first tac gear she's ever worn that's actually comfortable, but Shuri had shown them in the lab how it could stop bullets, turn edged weapons, blunt the force from energy blasts or brute strength. Natasha has a knife strapped to her thigh and two batons hidden under her jacket. She's not sure what Maria and Nakia are wearing but they're just as defended as she is.

"Don't attack," Nakia adds over the comm. "Give him enough time to make us a trail."

"Understood," Natasha says, and carries a bowl of lemon wedge garnishes over to the bar--close to where Murphy is heading. She bows her head low as she waits for him to enter the room; she's tangled with him before, and though she has a photostatic veil blurring her features, she can't take the risk that her posture and body language won't strike a spark of memory.

He comes in and she mutters, "He's here," in a breath barely above a whisper.

"Keep an eye on him, Nat," Maria says, low and commanding, and Natasha doesn't give herself a moment to lean over the tray with her hair hiding her face so she can grin like a fool at the nickname. She doesn't.

Instead, she keeps an eye on him, watching him skirt around the edge of the room, desultorily emptying trash cans. He's in his thirties, square jaw, dark hair, a hard set to his lips. He's mostly ignoring the bustle of the servers, staying in the back of the kitchen.

"Take these drinks out to the floor," says one of the caterers, and hands her a tray of champagne flutes.

"He's in the kitchen, Peggy," Natasha murmurs. "Let me know if he moves."

"Understood," Peggy says in her ear, and then Natasha is through the swinging doors and into the reception hall.

The brides are still taking pictures with their families, so the hall is filled with guests, some in Wakandan attire, some in American formal dress, milling around and chatting. Natasha circles the room, making sure anyone who wants one gets a glass of champagne. She sees Nakia in one corner of the room, resplendent in a flowing green dress made of the same tac fabric as her own clothes (slit high up the thighs to allow a wide range of motion for kicks, she notes approvingly) and the bracelets Shuri made for her. Nakia's gaze slides over her with no sign of recognition, although she's familiar with the face Natasha's wearing, and she turns back to her conversation.

Natasha sees a flash of iron-gray hair, and spots Justine Hammer next to her daughter Sasha--and Walsh and Novak accompanying them. She gives herself a mental nod. They're sticking close so far, but doubtless when it's time to make their move, Justine and Sasha will stay far away from the action. She doesn't approach them with the tray. No need to get close to them until it's time.

She turns to make her way back across the room with her dwindling supply of glasses, when she catches a glimpse of blue out of the corner of her eye. She can't resist turning a little further, and she finds herself altering her course.

Maria's hair is pulled back into a neat chignon, her bangs softening the clean lines of her face. Natasha is used to seeing her in her severe SHIELD uniform, but tonight she's wearing a royal blue dress with gold detailing, the vee neckline dipping down to reveal the curve of her collarbones, the softer line of her cleavage. She's a few inches taller than Natasha; if they were very close--close enough to kiss, say--Natasha would have to tilt her head up.

Natasha walks up to her elbow and waits for a break in the conversation Maria is having with an older Wakandan woman to say, "May I get you a drink?"

She's talking to both of them, but she's looking at Maria when she says it, and she doesn't think she's imagining the real warmth that colors Maria's cool, polite smile. She and the woman both take drinks, and Natasha makes her way back to the kitchen.

Murphy isn't there.

"Peggy?" she murmurs. "Where's Murphy?"

"Janitorial supply closet," Peggy says. "At the moment he's resupplying for his ruse, but I note also there are handguns on the top shelf."

"Supposition," Natasha says, loading empty champagne flutes into a dishwashing rack. "He's the getaway guy. Novak and Walsh get him the beads and he leaves while they stay through the end of the party."

"Likely," Nakia says. A loud round of applause comes from the reception hall, muffled through the kitchen doors, but loud in Natasha's earpiece. "The brides are coming in."

Natasha's pulse kicks up, just a little, because it's almost go time. She gets another tray of champagne flutes and walks back out to make sure all the guests have something to toast the brides with.

The brides walk out smiling, hands entwined, the Dora Milaje dancing behind them in a vee formation, singing and pounding time with their spears. They're in ceremonial uniforms, lighter than Natasha's seen General Okoye wear: black leggings and red tops that hint at the armor they usually wear. They're smiling as they sing their friend and her new bride to the center of the room. The Wakandan guests are singing along to the music, clapping or stomping their feet in time, and although Natasha can't understand the words, it's a joyous sound, a celebration of two lives coming together, and something sticks in Natasha's throat. This is beautiful in a way she didn't expect, and she's there to keep an eye out for trouble, not get caught up in these emotions. She doesn't even know the couple, but something about them strikes her all the same. She was made into a weapon, and taught that love was not for someone like her. But there Xoliswa is, holding her wife’s hand, radiant and smiling, surrounded by people who love her

She looks up and sees Maria watching her. She inclines her head so slightly no one would see a nod unless they were looking for it and slides her empty tray onto a table while king T'Challa leads the crowd in a toast to the brides. Everyone drinks and cheers, and then the brides open the floor with an American-style dance.

This is what she's been waiting for. The first several dances are for the brides and their families, and then T'Challa and Nakia (interesting, Natasha thinks) take to the dance floor and everyone starts dancing.

Natasha slides around the edges of the dance floor, keeping an eye on the Hammer ladies and their escorts. Walsh is the one to keep an eye on now.

"Maria, I've got Walsh in my sights," she mutters, and gets acknowledgement from Maria, Peggy, and Nakia. "What's Murphy doing?"

"Back in the kitchen," Peggy reports. "Scrubbing down counters. Seems to be getting a tad twitchy."

Nakia swings into Natasha's line of sight. She and T'Challa end up next to the brides, who are laughing as they dance, eyes only for each other. Sasha and Walsh are dancing closer to them, and Natasha is a little curious about how Walsh will make his move, but...

"Nakia, if you've got eyes on Walsh, I'll head back to Murphy."

"I've got him," Nakia confirms, and Natasha starts moving.

"I've got Justine and Novak," Maria says.

Natasha threads her way through the crowd. Between her uniform, the photostatic veil, and her average height, she's more-or-less invisible to the guests, which is just how she likes it. She slips back into the kitchen. It's not exactly empty, but there's a lull as most of the servers are ferrying food out to the tables. Natasha only escapes being sent out again herself by spilling a pitcher of water and frantically assuring the harried manager that she'll clean it up.

"He did it," Nakia reports suddenly, and Natasha doesn't let herself jerk in surprise. "I was watching the whole time and I didn't see him do it, but he's headed toward the kitchen. He didn't touch Xoliswa, but he brushed against Lucia for a moment. She still has her kimoye bead but--"

"It'll be a fake," Maria says. "I'm headed your way, Natasha. They're going to hand it off."

Natasha tenses and shoves the sodden towel she's been mostly ignoring while pretending to sop up the spill under a tablecloth.

The kitchen door swings open and Walsh comes in, a splatter of red wine down his white shirt. "I'm so sorry," he says. "Could I get some soda water? And could someone point me toward the restroom?"

"Sure," Murphy says, but Natasha has already snagged a bottle of soda from behind the bar and is up in his face.

"Let me help, sir," she says, and dumps soda water on his shirt. "I've cleaned up so many red wine stains, this won't be a problem."

Walsh glances at Murphy while Natasha says to one of the caterers, "Where's the salt? Pass me some salt," and that caterer does. Natasha turns back to Walsh and holds up the salt like it's the Holy Grail and spreads her eyes wide. "I can get your shirt like new," she says.

"I really just need to get to the restroom," Walsh says, probably not as sure as he'd like to sound.

"This way, sir," Murphy says on cue, but Natasha's there too, flapping her hands and trying to be helpful as they walk down the hall, and it doesn't really matter because she's just stalling on the way to the men's room.

They're nearly there and Natasha is practically covering him in salt as she makes up bullshit about the stain, and then Maria skids around the corner, gun drawn, and that's it; now they're all on the same page. Murphy reaches out for Natasha, clearly in hostage taking mode, but Natasha braces herself and takes advantage of his weight, wrenches his wrist so that he can't get hold of her.

Murphy hisses, eyes darting from Maria to her, and maybe he makes the connection, maybe he doesn't; Natasha doesn't give him the chance before bracing herself and flinging him at Maria.

Maria ducks and kicks out her leg to trips Murphy, but he's fast and this isn't his first rodeo, so he rolls up again immediately, getting to his feet and pulling a knife out of his coveralls.

A knife. Quaint. Natasha flicks her wrists and her batons fall into her waiting hands from her forearm sheaths. The widow's bites are ready now, too, and he won't be suspecting those. She settles into a fighting position, weight in the balls of her feet, crouched and ready to go in any direction.

The corridor outside the bathroom isn't the best place for this, but it just gives them more of a ticking clock. The faster they settle this, the better.

Maria's pulled one of her Glocks and has it pointed at Walsh. "Where is it?" she asks.

He doesn't try to pretend he doesn't know what she's talking about. "On its way to make a lot of people a lot of money." His eyes dart to Murphy. Natasha tries to keep one eye on Murphy and his knife and one on Walsh. Have they already handed over the kimoyo bead? Does Murphy have it, or does Walsh? This is like the world's ugliest shell game.

"We're going to need that back," Maria says, and then Walsh has a gun out too, pointed right at her.

Natasha curses, only internally, because she didn't check the supply closet, didn't have time to remove the guns Murphy had stashed there and now one's trained on Maria. Walsh glances at Murphy again and that's all it takes for things to begin.

Walsh rushes Maria, either not wanting the clamor that a gunshot would bring--he's got a silencer on his gun, but silencer is really a misnomer and someone would come--or not wanting Maria to take a shot at this range. Maria ducks elegantly and sweeps a leg as she turns back to face him, but that's all Natasha has time to see before Murphy is on her.

The knife might be quaint, but it also has her attention because getting sewn up isn't her idea of a good end to a party. He's a lot bigger than her, which means he's got reach and weight going for him, but she's quicker, and frankly, a lot more of a bastard than he is.

He strikes quickly, trying to take her off guard and she wriggles to the side and lets her turn give more force to the baton she slams into the back of his knee. He staggers and grunts and tosses the knife to his other hand to slice at her. She's still moving and puts a hand on his side to brace herself as she runs up the wall and jumps.

She lands on his back and gets her baton hooked around his neck and pulls back hard, He lurches to the side, red-faced and gasping. She doesn't relent, keeps up the pressure as the sounds he makes get uglier, gurgling as he drools, trying to get in air. He drops to his knees but she doesn't let up until he's still.

She eases up, widow's bite at the ready, but he's really out. Across the hallway, Maria has Walsh's arm pinned behind him, pushing up near to breaking if Natasha's any judge, and her other hand around his neck, jamming his face against the wall. Everything well in hand, then.

Natasha kneels to zip-tie Murphy's wrists and ankles and then conducts a quick and thorough search of his pockets.

"Got it," she tells Maria triumphantly when she finds the kimoyo bead in a bag in a pocket of his coveralls. She slides the bead into her own pocket and murmurs, too quietly for Walsh to hear, to Peggy and Nakia, "We've got Murphy secured and Walsh contained. We've retrieved the bead."

"Excellent," Peggy says, and in the same breath, Nakia says, "I'm sending some of the War Dogs to take them into custody."

But a second later, Walsh says, "Plan C."

Natasha is already scrambling to get to him and Maria when all the lights go out.

It's pitch black, but Natasha was already moving and she doesn't let that slow her down. She slides next to Maria, gets a hand on Walsh's neck and activates her bite. A jolt of blue electricity arcs through the darkness and convulses, at the same time she hears a muffled _whump_.

The lights come back on.

Walsh is on the floor, still gently twitching, one of Maria's nonlethal rounds a glowing purple beacon lodged in his side. He's not dead, but Natasha bets that's going to leave quite a bruise. She looks up and meets Maria's eyes. Maria smiles and shrugs, her brown eyes warm with shared amusement. "So maybe it was overkill," she says.

Natasha pulls out some more zip ties and secures Walsh. "Can't be overkill," she says. "He's not dead."

Maria laughs outright at that, and Natasha has the sudden, wild idea that she would do anything to make her laugh like that again. "So maybe--" she begins, but Peggy's voice cuts her off.

"Maria, Natasha," she says urgently. "Get back to the reception hall. Novak is on the move."

Maria holds out a hand, and Natasha lets herself be pulled up. She stumbles a little--she never stumbles!--over Walsh's feet and Maria pulls her closer to steady her.

Then the two of them are running in tandem, Natasha sprinting to keep up with Maria's longer stride, past the confused and staring kitchen staff into the hall.

The guests are milling around, equally confused--mostly. Shuri is doing something with her own kimoyo bead that Natasha suspects might have something to do with how the power got back on so quickly, and both Hammer women are walking toward the edges of the crowd. Natasha exchanges a look with Maria and they both start heading that way.

"Does anyone have eyes on Novak?"

Suddenly Nakia is leaping up onto one of the tables, landing with barely a thud from her boots, and flinging her arm out. Her ring blade is barely a silvery flash over the guests' heads; they duck and flinch away, but her aim is unerring, and the blade connects with a cracking thud that is very loud in the suddenly-quiet room. Novak falls like a sack of potatoes and General Okoye marches over, face set.

Nakia jumps down from the table as gracefully as she ascended, in a flurry of green silk, and glances over toward Maria and Natasha just as they catch up with Justine and Sasha.

"Going somewhere?" Natasha asks, as they draw even with them.

"Those men were nothing to do with us," Justine says.

Maria arches any eyebrow. "Then you won't mind answering a few questions about them, will you?"

From across the room, Natasha hears a voice raised, Xoliswa talking to Lucia, her new wife. "Oh no, don't worry. It's not a real party unless there's a fight."

Natasha catches Maria's eye and grins.

*

Of course, it's not as easy as that.

The reception gets back into full swing, but a spy's work is never done, and there's a lot of cleanup: both Hammers to be questioned, all three men; and between Okoye's people and Peggy's, they're very thorough.

The fake kimoyo bead that Walsh slipped onto Lucia's hand emitted an electromagnetic pulse that should have taken out all the electronics in the building long enough for Novak to get the bead off Xoliswa (or try, anyway; Natasha has seen the Dora Milaje in action, and she doesn't think it would have gone well for Novak) and get out of the building. However, they had planned for a regular Oakland warehouse-turned-wedding-venue, not one that had been upgraded by Shuri, so the more fools them, really.  

By the time it's all sorted, its after one a.m. and the guests have all gone home or at least taken the party elsewhere, and the brides have left for their honeymoon. Natasha has long since taken the photostatic veil off, rubbing her face at the itchy feeling it leaves behind, and is thinking longingly of taking her shoes off back in her hotel room.

All in all, it's been a good day's work. Peggy and Okoye both said they were satisfied, as was King T'Challa. Wakandan technology is safe where it belongs, Shuri is already talking about an alteration she plans to make in the beads to deactivate them in case of theft, and Hammer Industries is about to suffer a blow when its CEO's shady activities are exposed.

As she turns to tell them goodbye, Nakia reaches out to clasp first Maria's, then Natasha's hands.

"We worked well together," she says.

"We did." Natasha smiles at her.

"Maybe we could again," Maria says.

"I could use a local perspective sometimes," Nakia says. "We'll be in touch."

She waves them goodbye, and Maria and Natasha step out into the night. There's a car waiting on the other end of the block to take them back to their hotel, but Maria doesn't start walking. Natasha watches her face, a study of shadows, limned by the orange streetlight. She's not tired--the adrenaline of the job is still carrying her, and her heart beats just a little faster as Maria turns to face her.

"During the job," Maria says, "you asked me a question."

Natasha takes a step closer. "Did I?" She honestly doesn't know what Maria is talking about; she asked her a lot of questions, probably.

Maria licks her lips. Natasha couldn't look away from the movement if she wanted to. "You asked if you could get me a drink." Natasha blinks. "So it's my turn to ask: can I get you a drink?"

Warmth fills Natasha like sunlight in the middle of winter. She may not entirely know what she's doing when it comes to people, but she hasn't read Maria wrong. "Agent Hill, are you asking me on a date?"

"That'd be pretty unprofessional while we're on a mission," Maria says, smiling. She takes Natasha's hands, tugs her a little closer. "So it's a good thing this op is over."

"In that case, the answer is yes." Natasha closes the distance between them and goes up on her toes to press a chaste kiss to Maria's lips.

It doesn't stay chaste for long. Maria's lips are soft and warm, and she drops Natasha's hands only to wrap her arms around her and pull Natasha closer by the small of her back. They are pressed together so closely, and Natasha can feel every one of Maria's curves, the soft swell of her breasts and belly and the strong solidity of her muscles. She smells so good, and Natasha can't help but gasp. Maria chases the breath into her mouth, the slide of her tongue against Natasha's sending electric sparks up Natasha's spine.

"About that drink," Maria says, and Natasha laughs, a little raggedly.

"Sure," she says, and tangles her hand around Maria's. "Let's."

*

As it turns out, the hotel bar is closed by the time they get back, but that's all right; the minibar in Maria's room is well-stocked.

Natasha doesn't finish her drink, and she doesn't make it back to her room. When she wakes up the next morning, it's to the sun through the blinds striping shadows across Maria's back as she sleeps, the light following the curve of her back.

Natasha stretches and thinks about masks. About sometimes, with some people, not needing them.

Then she fits herself around Maria and goes back to sleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! The wonderful art can be reblogged on [twitter](https://twitter.com/calendulaes/status/1142092406155669506) and [tumblr](https://t.co/1wldrngWOd), and the fic can be reblogged on [twitter](https://twitter.com/deisderium/status/1142093516476227585) and [ tumblr](https://deisderium.tumblr.com/post/185750332343/the-wedding-job). <3 <3 <3


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